


Spring

by pippinmctaggart



Series: Merry & Pippin fics [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Healing, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-19
Updated: 2004-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Takes place one year after the War of the Ring.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place one year after the War of the Ring.

 

 

Pippin hammered on Merry’s door with his gloved fist. “Merry! Merry, come quickly! Hurry, you loutish beast! Oh, in the name of all that’s treasured, do come quickly, Meriadoc!”

Merry flung the door open, ready to tan his cousin’s hide for the early waking. But the sight of tears glittering on Pippin’s lashes and a tremor in the hand that gripped his stopped him short. Suddenly afraid, he said, “What is it, Pippin? What’s happened? Is it Frodo?”

Pippin surprised him by pulling him forward into a fierce embrace, and laughing unevenly in his ear. “No. No, dearest cousin, it’s not Frodo. You will scarce believe it.” He forced Merry from him again, urging, “Now please, get yourself dressed and come with me. Not another word until we’re on our way!”

“On our way where?” Merry asked, confused beyond measure.

“Go, you sluggish hobbit! Put some decent clothes on, and I will pack you up a breakfast to bring with you.” Pippin shooed him inside.

“Bring breakfast with me?” Merry demanded, horrified. “I thought our uncivilized days of eating on the road were over with!”

“Merry—my most beloved Merry—trust me, I beg of you,” Pippin pleaded, smiling. “Get dressed and come with me.”

“What about elevenses?” Merry asked suspiciously.

“I’m quite sure we shall be having elevenses at Bag End, and don’t think I didn’t see through that appallingly obvious attempt to worm more information out of me. If you don’t move your slothful self right now, I will pack you water and stale bread!”

Merry hurried off.

 

 

As they rode through Bywater, Merry finished the last of the rich biscuits Pippin had packed up for him. “I do wish you would tell me where we’re going, Peregrin Took,” he grumbled, brushing crumbs from his cloak. “If you’ve dragged me from my nice warm bed for a little jaunt through the countryside, I shall take the flat of my sword to you—“

“Oh, hush, Merry,” Pippin scolded. “Obviously you are growing soft again. But do you know,” he suddenly brightened. “I have just had a most intelligent thought—“

“Will wonders never cease?” Merry muttered.

Pippin dryly said, “You _are_ surly this morning, aren’t you? I shall expect an apology later, when you realize how horrid you’re being to me. In the meantime, my brilliant thought was, perhaps we should have regular sword-fighting practice. It would do us both good, and it would be a shame to let our hard-won skills grow rusty through disuse.”

Merry grudgingly agreed. “I hope by regular, you mean once a month.”

“Once a month? Hardly often enough to keep us trim and keep our reflexes honed. Although I suppose every day is a bit too often. How about once a week? It will guarantee us more frequent visits, as well.”

“Fine. Once a week. Starting next week.”

Pippin laughed. “Starting this week, you lazy creature.”

Now in Hobbiton, the two riders turned toward the Hill, crossing the bridge single-file, Pippin leading.

Merry was looking to the side, and behind them. “I haven’t been in Hobbiton in weeks, you know. It’s remarkable the work that’s been done. Look at all Sam has done on the Gaffer’s.”

“You’d have seen it all proceeding apace if you left your hole once in a while, you know,” Pippin teased.

Merry glared at his back. “I leave my—“ But suddenly his voice trailed off, and he gave a sigh of wonder, and he whispered, “Pippin—oh, Pip, look…”

With a soft, fond smile, Pippin turned to look not where Merry’s gaze was focused, but upon his face, and he watched the shifting tide of delight, pleasure, joy, longing, and sadness play across his kinsman’s features. “Come, Merry,” Pippin said quietly. “Let’s tie the ponies here and walk in.”

The two hobbits dismounted their ponies and lashed the reins to the fence rail, then made their way through the stile.

“When did this happen?” Merry breathed, not taking his eyes from their destination.

“Sam rode out to Tuckborough last evening to tell me. It began yesterday.”

“Oh, Pip, it’s so beautiful.”

Pippin dropped his arm over his cousin’s shoulders as they walked towards it. “It is, isn’t it, my dear? I rode in at first light this morning, then came straight for you.”

“It must have been so very lovely at dawn,” Merry said wistfully. “Perhaps I’ll stay at Bag End tonight and see it in the morning.”

“It would be worth the effort,” Pippin agreed.

“Who could possibly have known, when Sam planted that little silver nut last fall, that we would be blessed with _this_ ,” Merry marveled, and his eyes grew wet with tears of gratitude, just as Pippin’s had at the mere thought on his doorstep that morning.

“Well,” Pippin smiled, “I believe Lady Galadriel had an inkling.”

Merry walked right up to the slender trunk of the mallorn tree, laying a reverent hand on the silver bark, looking up into the branches at the glorious riot of golden blossoms. “The Party Tree was magnificent,” he murmured, “But this is…”

“Healing,” Pippin said softly. He joined Merry underneath the low, young branches, and when Merry turned to him, they embraced, finding love and a silent understanding with each other, that of all the thousands of residents of the Shire, only Frodo and Sam could possibly share. He quietly sang a portion of the walking song written by Bilbo many years before.

_Home is behind, the world ahead,_  
_And there are many paths to tread_  
_Through shadows to the edge of night,_  
_Until the stars are all alight._  
_Then world behind and home ahead,_  
_We’ll wander back to home and bed._  


“Frodo and I sang that as we walked to meet you and Freddy in Buckland,” he explained, letting go of Merry to run his fingers over the smooth light bark. “Little knowing how very true it would turn out to be, how much shadow we would all pass through. But we’ve returned, Merry, we’re home and the Shire is safe once more, and it’s time to live again.”

Merry simply looked at him, tears streaking his cheeks.

“Do you understand, my dearest Meriadoc?” Pippin asked. “You have been hiding all winter. It is time to walk out into the spring.”

A single blossom drifted down, coming to rest in a fold of Merry’s cloak, and a sweet, clean scent rose up around him. “Will you walk with me, Pippin?” he whispered. “Only—I’m not the same as I was, you see.”

“We none of us are,” Pippin said, allowing the sadness that still plagued them all at times to show in his eyes and in his voice. “But nor should we be. When you travel to the edge of night and back, you cannot expect to remain the same, Merry dear. You must bring yourself to accept that.”

“I will,” he promised, moved by Pippin’s strength. “With your help, and a little time to grow back into myself—“ he looked up at the golden mallorn blossoms, “—I will.”

“I know.” Pippin put an arm around Merry’s shoulders and squeezed. “I know you will, Merry.”

 


End file.
